


setting fire to our insides for fun

by platonics



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Homophobic Language, Literal Sleeping Together, Moral Dilemmas, Murder, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Reunions, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Temporary Amnesia, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 08:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18090686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonics/pseuds/platonics
Summary: Falling in love with Korekiyo was like balancing on the edge of a cliff, unable to decide whether to step back or jump. Team Danganronpa prided itself on its memory replacement technology, but the pangs of affection Himiko felt even with blood staining their hands said otherwise.





	setting fire to our insides for fun

**Author's Note:**

> a couple of quick notes and warnings:
> 
> 1) korekiyo is nonbinary in this fic and uses they/them pronouns
> 
> 2) there are some instances of homophobic and transphobic behavior throughout, including one homophobic slur. some of this behavior comes from kaito, so if you're sensitive to negative portrayals of him, please be aware!
> 
> for my rambling and miscellaneous thoughts on the fic as a whole, see the end notes!

The sound of humming dryers wound around Himiko like a blanket, obscuring any voices from down the hall. Something about the laundry room was soothing, all white noise and faded gray walls. Perhaps it was because it was one of the entirely mundane things on the larger-than-life Team Danganronpa campus — a reminder that some people lived, and went on to do things like laundry and grocery shopping like they hadn’t played a killing game. Nobody else hung out there unless they were actually doing their laundry. That part was nice too.

“I didn’t learn how to do my own laundry until I was sixteen. Almost flooded the house trying to figure out how,” Shinguji said, and Himiko felt their voice in her bones. She laughed, sprawling across the shabby, cast-off couch and resting her head against their thigh.

“Seriously?” Himiko had been doing housework for as long as she could remember, could still hear her grandmother’s instructions in her ear (exasperated, most of the time, but well-meaning, unlike her father). “I still can’t believe your family has maids. Like, actual people who come in and do all that stuff for you. I’d never sign up for Danganronpa if I lived like that.”

She felt them tense up under her, and immediately knew she’d said the wrong thing. Himiko caught her lower lip between her teeth, biting down for a moment.

“Sorry, I didn’t...” She trailed off, not sure how to fix it. There was more than one reason she didn’t really have friends.

“No, it’s alright. Your comment was reasonable. I’m well-aware I grew up more privileged than most in that respect. I also know that my motive isn’t the most palatable. That’s okay.” Shinguji fell silent, and Himiko closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on the whoosh-whoosh of the washing machines and wondering what might have happened if they’d met anywhere but here.

“I was bored and lonely. Danganronpa is anything but boring. That’s all.” It was barely audible, muffled by their mask. Himiko opened her eyes again, brown meeting gold, and nodded. 

“Okay,” she breathed, just as soft. Shinguji started to reach a hand over, slow and hesitant at first, as though she was a feral animal that might bite, and Himiko relaxed into the feeling of fingers running through her hair. “I signed up because we need the money,” she offered in return. “And because I hate my dad.”

“Daddy issues are a classic,” they said, all solemn voice and poker face (from what she could see of it), and Himiko thought she’d be quite offended if anyone else said that to her. Instead, she chuckled again, swatting a lazy hand into Shinguji’s ribs.

“Fuck off. We can’t all be as edgy as you.”

Shinguji snorted, then immediately went red, as if they’d done something terribly undignified. Himiko grinned, trying to ignore the ache in her chest.

“How’s your hand?” they asked after a few moments, and Himiko hummed, flexing it experimentally.

“Still hurts a little, but better than earlier,” she said, breath catching in her throat at the feeling of skin on skin. Their fingers laced together as Shinguji inspected her bruised knuckles. Himiko could tell that they were frowning, thoughtful and intent like her injured hand was the most important thing in the world, and her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Good,” they said eventually, holding onto her hand for just a little longer than necessary. Their other hand was still running through her hair, and Himiko sighed, resolutely not looking at the calendar on the wall. “You really didn’t have to punch him, you know.”

“Yes, I did,” she insisted, sitting up a bit to look Shinguji in the eyes properly. “You heard the stuff he was saying about you.”

“Yes, I did,” they agreed. “You still didn’t have to punch him.”

“He was insulting me too. Pretend I did it for myself if you’d rather,” Himiko said, shifting to curl up with her head on Shinguji’s shoulder, half on their lap. 

She’d punch Momota again if given the chance. It wasn’t even a question. Of course she would, hearing him mutter vile slurs under his breath and talk too loudly about how ‘a real man’ should be, like he thought Shinguji didn’t know exactly what he was implying. She hadn’t been able to sit there another second, watching Shinguji stare down at their freshly painted nails like the glossy black polish had personally betrayed them. So Himiko, who’d never gotten in a fight in her life, had walked over and punched him, just like that.

Shinguji had looked shocked, and Momota had been howling, all “little bitch just hit me, what the fuck?”, and Himiko’s voice had taken on a mind of its own, throwing back a “don’t you _dare_ talk about Korekiyo like that, asshole,” and security had arrived and told her very firmly to get out of the cafeteria Right Now Yumeno-san. 

She’d been so mortified about their first name slipping off her tongue like that that she hadn’t even dared to _think_ it since. After the cafeteria, once they were alone, Shinguji had tugged the mask down and brushed a kiss over the blue-violet bruises blooming on her skin. In that moment, Himiko was lucky the killing hadn’t started yet, because she would have stabbed Momota for them like it was nothing.

Himiko yawned and nuzzled closer, Shinguji’s long, silky hair tickling when it brushed against her neck.

“There are better places to take a nap, you know.”

“I know,” Himiko agreed, pouting a little. “But I don’t feel like moving. It’s so much work, Shinguji, you just don’t understand,” she continued, whining a little for effect.

They hesitated for a moment, and Himiko could almost feel them holding their breath.

“Yumeno-san...you can call me Korekiyo if you want. I don’t mind.”

“Oh,” Himiko breathed, face going hot. “Well, you can call me Himiko.”

Shinguji...Korekiyo carried her out of the laundry room. Himiko giggled, clinging to them and relishing the feeling of being doted on by someone for once. A few of the others saw them on the way back to her room, Ouma and Angie and Iruma, but she didn’t care.

* * *

Korekiyo stayed the night (something that wasn’t technically allowed, but TDR looked the other way when it came to most things), but Himiko suspected it wasn’t on purpose. One minute they were telling her old folktales, one hand stroking gentle along her spine, and the next thing she knew, there was sunlight streaming in the window, and they were still in bed next to her, fully dressed and not even under the covers.

They made a soft sound in their sleep, curling up more. They were very tall, over a foot taller than Himiko herself, but all bones, like a spindly tree fighting through the winter, and something about that made Himiko’s heart ache just a little. She pressed up against them, saying a silent ‘fuck you’ to propriety and her grandmother’s ideas of how she definitely shouldn’t be this close to someone, alone, in a bed. What her family didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and she’d probably be dead soon anyway. Himiko wound an arm around their waist, buried her face in their chest, and let herself doze off again.

She came to in bits and pieces. The smell of coffee wafted over from the small table, starting to pull Himiko out of a dream. A news anchor droned on softly on TV, and she caught Amami’s name, and Danganronpa. More coverage leading up to the beginning of the season, then. It sounded like the shower was running too, but then it stopped. A few minutes passed, and then, slowly, Himiko stretched, then squirmed farther under the covers, cracking open one eye.

Korekiyo was standing shirtless in her bedroom, pulling their damp hair into a ponytail. The shower running made sense now. Suddenly Himiko was very awake. She took in the expanse of pale skin, bones even more prominent like this, and the glimpse of pink scar tissue on the inside of a forearm. 

“You’re awake,” they said, voice still rough with sleep, and Himiko’s gaze dropped to the sheets, embarrassed to be caught looking. It was somehow different than catching herself staring at Chabashira or Harukawa, moments that would never mean anything, and the butterflies in her stomach at the memory of Korekiyo kissing her hand left her almost giddy. 

“You’re still here,” she replied, not sure what else to say. 

“Yes, ah...I apologize. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here last night,” they said rather awkwardly. Months ago, before they’d even met, Himiko had been people-watching with Chabashira and dismissed them as ‘alright for a boy, but kinda creepy looking, probably a killer.’ Back then, she’d had no idea she’d even see them again, much less anything else.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just surprised is all. You can stay here as much as you want.” Himiko chanced a look up from the bed, and saw Korekiyo frowning uncertainly at her. Luckily for her composure, they’d put a shirt on by now, but somehow, seeing the vulnerability in their expression, not covered by a mask, felt impossibly intimate.

“Really,” Himiko assured. “I like having you here. And...there’s not much longer until the season starts, so...” 

Korekiyo nodded, looking unbearably sad, and sat on the edge of the bed. For a few moments, they didn’t speak, just tracing the stitching on the comforter.

“If I could give up my spot now, I would. I just...want the two of us to get out together,” they said.

“Oh.” Himiko’s voice wobbled on that single word, and all in one motion, she flung herself at them, tipping gracelessly into their lap. Korekiyo let out a little ‘oof’ of surprise, but then there were arms wrapped tight around her, and she pressed her face into the crook of their neck. Their hair smelled like her lavender shampoo, and that was almost enough to make her start crying.

“I don’t want you to die,” she mumbled into Korekiyo’s neck, and even to her own ears, her voice was very small. “I can’t...” Himiko cut herself off, trying to choke back an ugly, gasping sob and failing miserably. “If you die, I have to die too, because I can’t come out of there and get my memories back and _know._ I can’t feel that, I can’t survive that.” The tears were coming in earnest now, and Himiko was beyond caring about breaking her rules. There had to be rules to emotions in order to survive; rules about how and what and when to feel, and what to let show. It had been what drew her to Korekiyo at first, how it was obvious that they had rules too. Rules about when to speak and how much, about which interests were okay to talk about, about how they looked to others. 

Letting herself cry in front of someone broke a million rules, but no judgment came. Korekiyo just held her and rubbed her back, occasionally murmuring little ‘I know’s. 

“It’ll be okay, Himiko,” they said eventually, when she drew back to wipe her eyes. “We’ll survive together, and if we don’t, I’ll still be there with you, even as a ghost.”

Himiko sniffled, trying to force a smile.

“I’ll be jealous if you haunt anyone else, you know,” she said.

“I wouldn’t dare. Who else would I have?” Korekiyo smiled. Despite the weeks and weeks they’d been friends, Himiko had only seen it properly a handful of times. Unthinkingly, she leaned in, kissing them. She could feel them smiling against her lips when they kissed back.

“So, we’re...”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

It had taken a while for either of them to move from their current position, but later, Himiko found herself sitting on the bathroom counter and sipping cold coffee, watching Korekiyo do their makeup. She’d never been any good at that sort of thing, but watching them was oddly soothing.

“Can you do mine after?” she asked from behind the rim of her mug, tucking one leg up underneath her. 

Korekiyo blinked, seeming a little startled by her question, but nodded, lips quirking into a bemused smile. It looked more silly than anything, since they’d paused halfway through doing their lipstick, and Himiko smirked, trying to commit this moment to memory.

They lapsed into lecture mode once they were focused on her, but Himiko didn’t mind. She thought it was sweet, really, and so she let her mind drift, like there was nothing in the world but the cool eyeliner against her skin and Korekiyo’s quiet voice going on and on about tongue-cut sparrows and tanuki. 

 

* * *

Everyone had to try on their costumes before the last round of alterations. It was a very unwelcome reminder of how little time they had left.

“You look cute,” Korekiyo said. Himiko felt absolutely certain that ‘cute’ was not a regular part of their vocabulary before her, and that caused a little swell of pride in her chest. “The magician theme suits you.”

“You look...” she trailed off, searching for the right description. “Like a killer.” A beautiful killer, but a killer nonetheless.

“Yes, I thought so too,” Korekiyo agreed, grimacing behind their mask and toying with a loose lock of hair.

“But that could be a good thing! Subverting expectations, you know, having the person you’d expect to be a culprit survive.”

“Even the writers don’t have full control over who lives in the end,” they reminded her.

“Way to ruin me trying to be optimistic. I know they don’t, but they steer things pretty strongly.” Himiko frowned.

Korekiyo drew her into a hug, one of the chains on their uniform digging into her cheek. A Danganronpa employee materialized seemingly out of nowhere to scold them for having wandered off. Himiko leaned up on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to their cheek. As Korekiyo reluctantly pulled away, she tried to memorize every detail, thinking about how much she cared about them. Maybe that way, part of her would remember when they ‘met’ on the show.

There were photoshoots too, just another thing to eat up more and more of their dwindling time. Himiko fidgeted between Angie and Chabashira, shooting death glares at Momota whenever she could. _Of course_ they’d put him next to Korekiyo, giving him all kinds of opportunities to torment them. 

“You and Shinguji are pretty close, huh?” Chabashira murmured, giving her a sympathetic smile. It was almost enough to make Himiko cry. So many of her fellow cast members were so nice. She wished she could get to know them normally, without the knowledge that most of them would be dead within a couple of months looming over them.

“Yeah,” Himiko agreed softly, leaning closer to her. “I didn’t think we would be, when we first met, but they’re really amazing.”

“I remember,” Chabashira agreed, fiddling with her choker. “I was on my way to comfort you myself that night at the beginning, but they got there first.”

Himiko blushed at the memory. She’d already cried in front of Korekiyo more times than she’d like. “I don’t know why they still wanted to be friends with me after dealing with that. I was a mess.”

“Clearly Shinguji didn’t think it was a big deal,” Chabashira replied with a shrug. “I wouldn’t have either. It’s normal to be scared and upset sometimes. And for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t go out of my way to comfort someone in the middle of the night if I didn’t already care about them, so...”

“That’s true.” Chabashira was a good friend. Himiko had heard rumors that the writers were planning a potential romance arc between the two of them, and all things considered, she didn’t mind the idea that much. She’d rather be with Korekiyo, though.

“The three of us should hang out sometime,” Himiko offered. “I’m sure Korekiyo would like to get to know you too. They just have a hard time opening up about stuff other than anthropology.”

“Korekiyo, huh?” Chabashira grinned, elbowing Himiko in the side. “I didn’t realize you two were on first-name basis now.”

“We’re...kind of dating, I think,” Himiko said, softly so as not to be overheard. The word ‘dating’ sounded so silly under these circumstances, so juvenile.

The photographers started snapping pictures, but Chabashira managed to work in a quick, “Tell me everything later,” before going quiet.

 

* * *

“Look, I’m not one of the head writers. I appreciate your enthusiasm, Yumeno-san, but it’s not up to me.”

Himiko sighed heavily, leaning against the doorframe. After spending so long trying to track down _anyone_ on the writing team for season 53, she wasn’t going to be turned away so easily. Chabashira had warned her that it might not go well, but what was the harm in trying?

“I understand. Please just hear me out, and maybe pass along the message. Shinguji and I would really appreciate it if we could...stay close in the killing game. Some kind of alliance or something,” she hedged.

The writer (probably just an intern, honestly) smirked, looking down at her in a way that made it all too clear how he didn’t take her seriously. His hair was hot pink and messy, and as he ran ringed fingers through it, Himiko wondered if he was trying to look like Souda, from one of the original seasons. Probably. Not many people would take this kind of job if they weren’t fans of the show.

“If you’re after a romance arc, you’re out of luck. That’s not planned for Shinguji-kun. His character is...meant to go in a different direction.” Himiko gritted her teeth, ignoring the dread curling in her stomach. 

“Not necessarily romance. Just...anything. If you’d let us out of our contracts, that’d be even better.”

That was only met with laughter, harsh and grating, and Himiko curled in on herself, fingernails scraping against the eggshell-colored paint on the wall. Souda had never been one of her favorite characters anyway, but she felt certain now that she’d never be able to watch season two again without feeling sick.

“It’s heartwarming, really. Glad you think you found yourself a boyfriend. I’ll pass it along if you want me to that badly, but a word of advice, sweetheart? You’d be better off staying as far away from that freak as possible in the killing game. Not too long from now, he’s gonna love the thought of watching you die.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Himiko choked out, eyes burning. The room was starting to tilt around her, a vise tightening around her ribs. They wouldn’t, she was sure, and yet at the same time, she could see it so easily. How much taller and stronger they were (almost everyone was, really, compared to her), how easy it would be to catch her off-guard, to sink a knife into her back or something heavy over her head or even just their hands around her neck. She started to move back towards the door, hand shaking as she grabbed the handle.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” the intern replied, that infuriatingly smug grin still on his face. “Thought you were a dyke anyway. Or is he girly enough to work for you?”

Himiko’s lip trembled, and for a second, she considered whirling around and punching him like she had Momota. Instead, she flung the door open and left. She didn’t stop running until she reached Chabashira’s room, sweaty and breathing heavily.

“Oh, Himiko-chan, you didn’t...” 

Chabashira (Tenko, by now, she supposed) pulled her into a hug, and Himiko started to cry.

 

* * *

“What do you want to do afterwards?” Himiko asked, scooting a little closer as she continued to braid Korekiyo’s hair.

“Hmm, I think I’d like to travel,” they replied. “Get away from all the attention for awhile. A vacation would be much-deserved after surviving.”

“You’d better be planning on taking me with you,” she said. “I don’t want to deal with the fame either.”

“Of course. I’d never dream of leaving you behind.”

Himiko smiled to herself, and across the room, Tenko “ooh”-ed dramatically, pretending to swoon on the couch. The effect was ruined quickly. When faced with Korekiyo glaring at her, Tenko dissolved into laughter.

“Shut up, Tenko!” Himiko exclaimed between giggles, not really meaning it. 

“But you two are so cute together, I can’t help it. And Shinguji-san really isn’t that intimidating when they try to look scary.” At that, Korekiyo gasped in mock offense.

“I can be incredibly scary when I want to be. You simply haven’t gotten on my bad side.”

“No, you’re cute,” Himiko said, finishing off the braid and moving to sprawl across their lap instead. Almost immediately, their gaze softened, and when Himiko caught a glimpse of Tenko, she looked conflicted. All traces of amusement were gone.

“I hope we all get a chance to spend time together again afterwards,” Tenko said, uncharacteristically downcast and looking away from them both. “Or that you do, at least. I didn’t expect to care about anyone I met here, but...” She looked up again, forcing a smile. “You deserve to win, really. And if I can be there too, to be your friend, that’d be even better.”

 

* * *

“How badly do you want to survive the killing game with Shinguji-kun?” The voice came out of nowhere, and Himiko flinched, glancing around to locate it.

“Oh, Shirogane...” That was strange. The other girl seemed nice enough, but Himiko certainly hadn’t talked to her much before, so why was she approaching her now? She felt herself frowning, and quickly tried to school her expression into something more neutral. “Um, why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Shirogane said with a shrug, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “It’s sweet, you know? Like something out of an anime. People who’d do _anything_ to be together. I think that’s so romantic.”

“Um, yeah.” Himiko bit her lip, glancing around in search of an escape from the conversation. “I guess I would. Do anything, I mean.”

“Interesting. Well, thanks for talking with me, Yumeno-san. I wish you the best of luck.” And just like that, Shirogane took her leave, as if their exchange made perfect sense. Himiko shivered, feeling as though she’d just gotten caught in a trap she couldn’t even see.

 

* * *

As their time dwindled even more, they took to spending every night together. Sometimes in Himiko’s room, sometimes in Korekiyo’s — virtually everyone knew by now, so there wasn’t much need for secrecy. Tenko often wound up there too, sleeping on the couch while the two of them took the bed.

Late at night, they’d discuss memory strategies, scouring the internet for any signs that someone successfully remembered parts of their real past while on Danganronpa. They thought up plans, code words, how to get through popular motives.

With the brainstorming came the nightmares. In Himiko’s sleep, she was stabbed, poisoned, drowned, tortured, and every time, golden eyes were the last things she saw before waking up. Occasionally, it was the other way around, and she remembered how much Korekiyo meant to her with their blood dripping from her hands. Tenko cast the deciding vote for her execution. Momota laughed in the distance as Korekiyo strangled her. 

Himiko woke up screaming, and on the good nights, she was soothed back to sleep. She curled close to Korekiyo, and dozed off to the sound of their voice, or sometimes Tenko’s. On the bad ones, she couldn’t calm down. Korekiyo went to cry in the bathroom so she wouldn’t see how much she’d upset them, and Tenko pretended not to hear.

 

* * *

On their last night on campus, Korekiyo pressed a thick envelope into her hand, her name on the front.

“Hold onto this, just in case,” they said. It took a moment for the meaning to sink in, but as soon as it did, Himiko shook her head, trying to hand it back.

“No, don’t say that. It’s going to be fine.” Korekiyo sighed, fingers closing around her wrist.

“I know, but just in case. It’ll make me feel better if you have it.” They tugged her into a kiss, and afterwards, Himiko couldn’t help but agree to keep it.

 

* * *

The first night of the killing game, Himiko barricaded herself inside her room, wedging a chair under the doorknob. She tossed and turned in bed, sheets tangling around her legs, and stared up at the ceiling. 

Himiko was utterly alone.

 

* * *

“Hey, Chabashira, can I ask you something?” Himiko asked, pausing and glancing over her shoulder. Chabashira was following her to the dining hall, just as she had the past two days, chattering about how _cool_ and _amazing_ she thought Himiko was.

“Of course! What is it, Yumeno-san? Tenko can help you with anything you need!” It had been a mistake to stop walking, because now Chabashira was so much closer. Himiko took a step backwards.

“Mm, well, it’s just...” She frowned, gazing up at the sky and casting about for the right way to describe it. Chabashira was bouncing on the balls of her feet, practically drooling. “Does Shinguji make you feel weird too?”

Chabashira looked confused, and Himiko tugged at the brim of her hat, pulling it down further over her eyes. 

“Yeah, Tenko thinks they’re kinda creepy...Is Shinguji-san bothering you? Tenko will protect you. Just say the word and I’ll throw them! In fact, don’t go anywhere alone with them, Yumeno-san, or any degenerates. Tenko has a bad feeling about them.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Himiko groaned, and started ambling towards the main school building again. Predictably, Chabashira matched her pace. 

“What do you mean, then?”

“I mean...do you get headaches when you’re near them?” Not unlike the one blooming behind her eyes right now, in fact. Chabashira made her head hurt sometimes too, though Himiko felt comfortable chalking that up to simple sensory overload. 

“No, Tenko hasn’t noticed anything like that...” 

“Oh, well, maybe you wouldn’t notice, since you’re not a mage,” Himiko replied, the excuse slipping easily off her tongue. “I’m worried they might be draining my mana, so that’s why I’ve been trying hard not to waste it.”

Chabashira assured her that she’d keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior, and Himiko thanked her grudgingly, the conversation wrapping up just as they got to the dining hall.

“Ah, good morning, Yumeno-san, Chabashira-san.” Himiko barely had time to sit down before she was confronted with the sight of just who they’d been talking about.

“Morning, Shinguji,” she mumbled as the pain in her head intensified. Chabashira just glared at them, smoothing a hand through Himiko’s hair in a way that made her feel oddly like a pet. 

“I’ll get you some breakfast,” Chabashira told her. “You’ll feel much better once you have something to eat!” Punctuating that with another downright vicious look at Shinguji, she headed into the kitchen.

Shinguji, either not getting the message or not caring, sat down across from her. Himiko resolutely avoided eye contact, hoping that might ease the pain. 

“Her loyalty is truly impressive, yes? I wonder, Yumeno-san, did you two know each other before arriving here?” They leaned a bit closer, looking utterly enthralled with whatever her answer might be.

“Uh, no,” Himiko said, staring down at the table.

“Well, it’s understandable for many people to form uncharacteristically rapid attachments in circumstances such as these. The desire for connection and security...humanity will try to fulfill these needs in any way possible. In fact...” Himiko started to tune them out, gritting her teeth. The strange feelings had been noticeable even when interacting with Shinguji in passing, but this was the first time they’d spoken to her at length. She clenched one hand into a fist under the table. Shinguji kept rambling, something about people lost in the wilderness. Himiko looked towards the kitchen entrance, where Tenko should reappear soon.

It _hurt_ and she didn’t know why. Shirogane was giving her a funny look, she noticed, though Shinguji still hadn’t faltered.

“Stop.” The word tore its way out of her mouth, fingernails digging into her palm. “Stop talking to me!”

Shinguji did stop, finally, and out of the corner of her eye, Himiko saw them lean back a little, raising a hand to their masked lips.

“I apologize if I’ve done anything to upset you, Yumeno-san. I simply–”

Himiko didn’t stay to hear the rest. She stood up, chair screeching against the floor, and fled the dining hall, tears welling up in her eyes.

 

* * *

One of the few positive things she could say about Shinguji after the incident at breakfast was that they were a distraction. If she was thinking about them, she wasn’t thinking so much about the very real possibility that she might not get out of here alive. (Amami in the library, blood pooling sluggishly around him.) (Akamatsu hanging, and the awful crushing sound that clawed its way into Himiko’s brain when she closed her eyes.) 

When she wasn’t being distracted by Angie or Chabashira, Himiko tended to spend her time alone, observing. Shinguji did the same. Himiko peered out from behind a thick book on magic to look around the room, and was met with bright gold eyes doing the same. They were reading about funeral traditions, it seemed, and the morbid image was jarring in combination with the way they were using the book to hide behind, just like her. Face hot, Himiko ducked her head down again, still able to feel Shinguji looking at her.

They talked to Toujou sometimes. Himiko slipped past the two in the kitchen, hands shaking as she poured herself a glass of water and fetched a snack for Angie. The whole time, she darted glances over at Shinguji from under the brim of her hat. Himiko saw the way they looked at all the girls, like they were measuring out ropes and graves in their head, and she thought that maybe Chabashira was right to be wary in this case.

“Good afternoon, Yumeno-san,” they said pleasantly, and Himiko promptly spilled water all down her front, cursing under her breath. She gave Toujou a pleading look.

“Ah, allow me to assist you, Yumeno-san.” Just as she was hoping, Toujou came to the rescue, and Shinguji slipped away.

 

* * *

Toujou killed Hoshi a few days after that afternoon in the kitchen. They made it through another trial, Himiko wondering the whole time why she was still alive. Life went on.

She didn’t think the student council would save her. Not really. She didn’t have to think, though, if Angie did it for her. Himiko nodded, and listened, and pretended the eyes in her dreams (watching her, always watching) belonged to Atua. Perhaps it was inevitable, then, that this almost-peace wouldn’t last for long.

There was a shadowy figure in the doorway of the warehouse. Himiko pressed herself into a corner, fingers tightening around the fabric of the blanket and clutching it to her chest. How stupid of her. Was she really going to get killed over something as stupid as an extra blanket, all because she couldn’t wait until morning? She should have just dealt with the cold and done something about it later. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

When the figure moved into the dull, fluorescent light, Himiko winced. Shinguji. Of course it was. She held her breath, a row of hangers pressing into her spine. They started down the aisle she was hiding in, and Himiko closed her eyes tight. She mouthed silent pleas not to see her, and listened to the soft, even thuds of boots against floor.

At the end of the aisle, all the way at the back, there was a wide variety of tools, many of them potentially lethal. _Please go, please go, please go._ She cracked one eye open. They were deliberating, humming softly. Himiko’s legs were starting to ache. Maybe she could shift positions just a little...

Her elbow knocked against a shelf of vitamins, and several bottles came crashing down. Shinguji whipped around to face her immediately, and Himiko froze. 

“Yumeno-san,” they said thoughtfully, and Himiko bit back a whimper, lower lip trembling. Her heart was racing, and suddenly she was reminded of a mouse being pursued by a cat. Sometimes, the cat wouldn’t even have to strike the killing blow. The mouse would have a heart attack and die all on its own. Maybe that would be her, collapsed on the warehouse floor. Would that still count as a murder? 

Shinguji arched an eyebrow, looking away from her just long enough to set down the saw they’d been inspecting. Himiko forced her legs to move, edging out of the alcove and towards the door. She kept her eyes on Shinguji, however, not quite willing to take her eyes off them. That proved to be a mistake. Himiko tripped over the fallen bottles, landing on the floor in a heap and gaining Shinguji’s attention once again.

“You fear me,” they said. It wasn’t a question. “Distrust is only natural, in a situation such as this. This seems to be...more than that, though. You’ve been wary of me from the very beginning, isn’t that right, Yumeno-san? What I have struggled to figure out is why. I do have the appearance of one who might participate in the killing game, I admit, but I bear no ill will towards you.”

Himiko listened from her place on the floor, too frightened to even attempt standing up. Even she wasn’t sure what she intended to say, but what came out of her mouth was, “Please don’t kill me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, though I do hope you won’t report me to Yonaga-san for being out at night.” They sounded almost amused. Himiko failed to find any humor in it.

Shinguji stepped closer, offering her a hand. Reluctantly, Himiko took it, pulling herself up, but as soon as she did, fresh pain bloomed behind her eyelids. For an instant, their surroundings morphed into an unfamiliar room. There was cool eyeliner against her skin, and a hand cupping her cheek, keeping her steady. 

“What if we don’t make it out together?” she heard herself saying.

“Then at least you’ll have an interesting story to tell, yes? Star-crossed love is very compelling.” Korekiyo drew back, capping the eyeliner, and smiled.

All at once, Himiko was back in the present, vertigo tilting the world around her. She was still holding onto Shinguji’s hand, and some of the terror had been replaced with the most gnawing loneliness she’d ever felt. Everything was viscerally wrong, as though someone had ripped back a curtain hiding it. Himiko stumbled (God, she’d never been this clumsy before, what was going on?), forehead colliding with Shinguji’s collarbone.

“Sorry, I...I...” She faltered, letting go and taking one, two, three quick steps back. “I should go.” Himiko was almost to the door, blanket forgotten completely, by the time Shinguji spoke again.

“Are you sure you’re alright? If there’s something you wish to talk about, I can...” 

“I remember you,” Himiko blurted. “I remember something that never happened. I know it sounds crazy, and I don’t know what it means, but I just...remembered.”

“There are so many mysteries regarding our imprisonment here; I cannot think of much that would be too crazy to be believed,” Shinguji said gently. “May I ask what exactly you remembered?”

Himiko’s face reddened as she recalled the gentle way Shinguji (Korekiyo) had treated her in the memory, how easy the conversation between them had felt. Their hair had just barely grazed her shoulder as they leaned in, brow furrowed in concentration, close enough to reach out and kiss. The thought of confiding any of that to the Shinguji in the here and now seemed nearly impossible. She shook her head a little, hesitating with a hand on the door.

“I need some time to figure out how I feel about it. And I don’t really have enough MP for a long explanation right now anyway,” she said, punctuating it with a yawn. “Maybe I can tell you tomorrow.” New confusion aside, she was still a little scared of them, resolutely avoiding eye contact.

“Of course. I’ll be happy to listen whenever you’re ready.” 

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight.” 

Shinguji nodded at her as she left, and Himiko hurried back to her room, mind a blur.

* * *

The next morning, Angie was dead. Inexplicably, Himiko found herself drifting towards Shinguji. Subconsciously, she supposed that in the wake of yet another nightmare, she hoped for some of the comfort she’d felt in her memories.

“Awful, yes?” they murmured once they noticed her at their side. It looked as though it took effort to focus on her rather than the corpse. 

“Yeah,” she replied. Her tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of her mouth. The sounds of everyone else talking faded into background noise, like so much static. She’d been talking to Angie just the day before, and now she was...Himiko’s stomach lurched, and she looked away. 

“You were close friends.”

“...Yeah.” Abruptly, the conversation was interrupted when Himiko was swept into Tenko’s arms. She was talking, both to her and Shinguji, but Himiko’s mind was too foggy to make out more than a few snippets here and there. An “oh, Himiko” or a “stay away from her, degenerate.” Himiko pressed her face into the crook of Tenko’s neck and remained perfectly still.

“Would you like a way to speak to Angie again?” Himiko had little sense of how long it had been by the time those words jolted her back into reality. She pulled back enough to look over at Shinguji, nodding hesitantly. She recalled hearing about their passion for seances, but...could it be possible that they really worked?

“Excellent. I have just the thing. You can help me out, if you’d like.” And just like that, Himiko became their loyal assistant, helping their plan go perfectly.

They talked as they worked on preparations for the seance. Or rather, Shinguji talked, and Himiko mostly listened, enchanted by their stories of faraway places and elaborate rituals. The headache lingered, a steady pounding in the background, but she’d grown used to it. It was a small enough price to pay for developing such a lovely friendship. Maybe things would turn out okay, even though Angie was gone, taking Atua with her. Korekiyo really was kind to her, and it wasn’t their fault that weird things kept happening to her around them.

(Himiko hadn’t really believed in Atua anyway. The figure in her dreams, the eyes watching her, the sense of having someone she’d happily do anything for...it had been Korekiyo all along, hadn’t it?)

 

* * *

When Tenko volunteered to be the spiritual medium, Korekiyo chimed in to agree, saying they wanted to be sure Himiko would have a chance to say goodbye. It was so nice, having someone looking out for her.

* * *

 

Once again, her brief sense of peace was shattered when she found Tenko dead under the cage. Himiko sucked in a ragged breath, feeling blood seep into the fabric of her tights as she knelt on the floor.

Korekiyo was the first to approach her, still muttering about how the seance failed. 

“I’m so sorry, Yumeno-san. I wish I knew why this...” They rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, and it was like someone drove a screwdriver between her eyes.

_An unfamiliar male voice, a cluttered-looking office she’d never seen before. Himiko felt like she was wound tightly enough to snap, but there was a reason she’d come here, something she needed from this man._

_“That’s not planned for Shinguji-kun. His character is meant to go in a different direction.”_

_She stood her ground, determined to get something closer to the answer she wanted to hear, but..._

_“A word of advice, sweetheart? You’d be better off staying as far away from that freak as possible in the killing game. Not too long from now, he’s gonna love the thought of watching you die.”_

“...Himiko, are you alright?” Back in reality, she stared blankly at Korekiyo, not even noticing that they’d called her by her given name. They pulled her to her feet, and she let them. They were surprisingly strong. That seemed like an important detail, somehow.

“You did it.”

“E-excuse me?”

“You did it. You killed her.”

 

* * *

Once the Monokuma File was distributed and the investigation properly started (again), Korekiyo asked for a moment alone with her.

“Yumeno was the closest to Chabashira-san. Surely she deserves a few moments to process all of this. In regards to protecting the crime scene, I will remain as well. Both of us will serve as a witness for the other, eliminating any risk of evidence being tampered with. You can spare just a minute before investigating, yes?”

Himiko didn’t bother listening to what anyone else said. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, the dark room spinning around her like she was at an amusement park. 

She couldn’t decide whether to press closer to Korekiyo or run as far away as possible. On one hand, they were now the closest living friend she had here, a source of comfort and stability, and they seemed to be taking that role seriously already. On the other, they’d set up the seance. Wouldn’t they have had the easiest time committing a murder during it? And the memory...the man telling her that they were a killer...She didn’t know what to think.

Despite some hesitation and grumbling, the others vacated the room, giving them a moment alone with the body. Korekiyo waited a moment (making sure everyone was out of earshot?) before speaking again.

“Do you trust me?”

It was a ridiculous question, with blood soaking the floorboards, the scent of it thick in the air. Himiko bit her lip, boot scuffing through the mess in her haste to make more distance between them, and she shook her head.

“Why would I trust you? You...you...” The words would not come. She shifted, leaving sticky, too-red prints on the floor. “You’re a murderer.”

Korekiyo hummed softly, inclining their head in acknowledgement. There were voices not too far away, and Himiko knew that at least some of the others would be coming back soon, reluctant to give up too much of their investigation time. Her gaze bounced over to Tenko, too still on the ground, and she shut her eyes. It was no use. Angie was imprinted on the backs of her eyelids.

“I only wish to help you, Himiko. Chabashira-san would wish for you to rely on your friends rather than try to do everything yourself, yes?” 

“We’re not friends. You killed her. You did it, I know you did.” 

“Grief can push even the sharpest of minds into a haze of delusion,” they murmured, voice wrapping itself around her tight enough to choke. “And, well, I believe we can both agree you started out rather duller than most, hmm? I did not kill her.”

“Fuck you,” Himiko gritted out, tears stinging her eyes. Tenko, who only ever wanted the best for her, gone. Angie, no longer making her decisions for her. There was nobody to save her. Maybe there never was in the first place.

“Allow me to accompany you to the dining hall. Perhaps I could make you some tea? You’ll feel much better somewhere more comfortable, I expect. Saihara-kun and the others are more than capable of handling the investigation.” Korekiyo looked surprisingly earnest as they said that, looking to her expectantly. It was true that she’d like to be away from the blood, away from Tenko.

“Fine, okay.”

“Good, good.” Himiko stumbled on her way out of the room, and was steadied by a bandaged hand at her back. She twitched, body unable to decide whether to pull away or press closer. Familiar pain jackhammered at her skull (memories of Korekiyo touching her, touching her, fingers tracing her spine and sharp-edged shoulder under her cheek). As they passed by Saihara, she shot him a pleading look. Korekiyo paused to speak to him, and reflexively, Himiko stopped too instead of taking the moment to slip away.

“I’ll stay with Yumeno-san and make sure she’s alright. I wish you the best of luck with your investigation.” 

Himiko gave a jerky nod of agreement, and once they were farther down the hall, Korekiyo leaned close to whisper to her.

“You will not share your suspicions, yes? Best to leave the detective work to those better suited for it.”

“Why are you doing this?” Himiko mumbled, ignoring how she was still tracking Tenko’s blood all down the corridor. “Why can’t you just leave me alone? Killing my friends wasn’t enough?” 

Korekiyo laughed softly. The sound was almost melodic, and terribly out of place in such a grim environment. 

“You are, unfortunately, mistaken. I certainly did not harm Angie. And, as I have already told you, my intentions are to help you. I care so deeply for every one of my classmates, and you’re in need of a friend.” Their voice grew quieter, and they sighed softly. “You’ve always shown me kindness, Himiko. I’ve enjoyed our conversations. And so, perhaps...I found my plans changing. I cannot always...No, never mind. I apologize for rambling.”

Himiko shrugged. They’d reached the dining hall now, and she dropped into the nearest chair, its legs screeching against the floor. Nobody else was there. The two of them hadn’t had many pleasant talks at the academy, and one of the only memorable ones had been about nail polish. Why had they said that, about enjoying their conversations?

“Tea?” they asked, and she shrugged again, scraping her thumbnail against the polished surface of the table.

“I don’t care.” 

“I think I’d like some,” they decided, starting towards the kitchen.

“Okay.” Himiko stayed put, eyes on their back until they vanished around the corner. She stayed there, frozen, staring towards the kitchen doorway and scraping at the table until Korekiyo returned with two steaming cups of tea. When they set one down in front of her, she briefly entertained the possibility of grabbing them by the wrist and trying to break their fingers, one by one. Instead, she wrapped a hand around the teacup and hoped it would burn her. Korekiyo sat down across from her. Their gaze burned more.

“Would you like to talk about what you mentioned last night?” Korekiyo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No.”

“Are you sure? It seemed important. It may hold clues regarding our imprisonment here.”

“Our imprisonment shouldn’t matter to you now. You’ll be dead soon.” Himiko curled her lip in disdain, looking down at her tea so that she didn’t need to make eye contact.

Korekiyo lifted a hand to their mouth in a quiet laugh.

“I do hope you’re not referring to execution. That, of course, won’t be happening today. Don’t you recall what Monokuma said? Only Angie’s killer is the blackened, and that isn’t me.”

“But you admit you did kill Tenko?” The particular wording of their denial hadn’t escaped Himiko. They’d denied involvement in Tenko’s murder before, but now, they were only saying that they hadn’t killed _Angie._

“Between you and me, yes. That was indeed my doing. Shame it was a waste, really.” Another giggle. Himiko’s grip tightened on the teacup.

“Why? Why did you do it?”

“Is that truly the most important issue right now? It will likely come out in the trial regardless. Are you certain you wouldn’t like to discuss what you remembered, now that you know I’ll be sticking around awhile longer?”

Himiko wavered, taking a sip of tea. She hadn’t let it cool long enough. It burned all the way down. 

“We’re not friends.”

“So you keep saying, yes. But is that how you really feel?”

“I don’t know,” she muttered into her teacup. “I don’t know, stop asking me.” How could she possibly answer that when she didn’t know what all these disjointed, phantom memories meant? Were they even real? They hadn’t had all that many one-on-one interactions here, thanks to Himiko’s avoidance of them, but at the same time...Until now, the conversations they _did_ have had been nice. Korekiyo’s presence seemed almost comforting. Even now, she was still finding herself thinking of them as Korekiyo instead of Shinguji.

“I believe we can help each other,” they said seriously. “Everyone needs someone to lean on, do they not? Someone they can trust.”

“Maybe that just makes things worse sometimes,” Himiko mumbled, biting a hangnail off her thumb.

She’d kissed Tenko once, after Akamatsu’s execution. She’d been scared, and Tenko had offered to stay over, all too-eager and practically jumping up and down, ‘I’ll protect you, I’ll protect you.’ Himiko had agreed, and hadn’t complained when Tenko sat on the bed beside her. If nothing else, she’d be a decent human shield. Later, in the dark, they’d kissed. It was fine, but only fine, no fireworks. Afterwards, Himiko drew back and went to sleep, entirely numb to the fact that she’d just had her first kiss.

“An interesting perspective. I can’t say I don’t see where you’re coming from, but isn’t love worth some of these risks?”

“Love?” Himiko nearly choked on her tea. “Who’s talking about _love_?” Her face burned, though, betraying her true thoughts. Her mind drifted back to the memory that had hit her in the warehouse. Korekiyo had been so close that she’d been able to notice how their hair smelled like lavender. 

“Of course. My mistake.” Maybe it was just her imagination, but she could almost sense them frowning in disapproval behind their mask. They made no attempt to revive the conversation after that, and the same lonely ache returned to deep in Himiko’s bones.

 

* * *

She gripped the edge of her podium so tightly that it dug into her fingers, knuckles white. It felt like the only sturdy thing in the world, the only thing keeping her upright. Voices danced and blurred around her in a senseless haze — Iruma bragging, Saihara disagreeing, Korekiyo just laughing and looking at her like this whole trial was an inside joke between the two of them. None of it made any sense. 

“Wow, Yumeno-chan, you look really awful!” Even Ouma’s mocking taunts barely reached her ears. Himiko gave him an unfocused glance, not bothering to reply. Another fractured image flashed in her mind, being carried past Ouma in an unfamiliar hallway, caught in Korekiyo’s arms once again. 

Her name kept coming up, she noticed, in a variety of different voices, but what they might actually be saying was beyond her.

“Whatever,” Himiko mumbled to no one in particular. “I don’t care. Just do whatever you want, I don’t care about any of this anymore.”

“But don’t you wish to avenge your friends?” Korekiyo asked, something close to mirth dancing in their eyes. “I don’t think Chabashira-san would want you to give up like that.” Tenko’s name coming from their mouth should have been infuriating, but Himiko was mostly just tired. 

“Stop talking like you care what she’d want. You killed her.”

Immediately, the courtroom erupted into chaos again, debating the merits of her accusation. It almost didn’t matter. If Korekiyo had been telling the truth, she’d still be stuck with them either way. There would be no justice today. Slumped against her podium, Himiko’s consciousness started to lapse.

By the time she drifted back into awareness, Korekiyo was looking unbearably smug, chuckling as Saihara confirmed that they really couldn’t have killed Angie.

In the end, the only conclusion was that Tenko herself had committed the murder, mere hours before she was killed by Korekiyo. Himiko pressed the button, feeling entirely numb.

With the culprit dead, their time in the courtroom came to an end without an execution. Well, without one that mattered, anyway. Nobody batted an eye when Monokuma, grumbling about how boring and disappointing it was that he couldn’t punish any of them, pulled out a remote, pressing the button. Monodam exploded, sharp bits of metal flying everywhere, but all the human occupants of the room were more focused on Korekiyo.

“Why the hell did you kill Chabashira, you freak?” Momota grabbed Korekiyo roughly by the shoulder, and even with the mask obscuring most of their face, Himiko could sense their pained grimace. They glanced down to Momota’s hand, but remained as frighteningly calm as ever. 

“Fascinating, how humans have such trouble facing the realities of death. So eager to label everything, to find a palatable explanation...Life is not so simple, I’m afraid. Regardless, my motive shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t change our situation, yes? Perhaps I simply wanted to. Or I wished to escape this place...After all, the rule about only Angie’s killer mattering was not announced until _after_ I killed Chabashira-san. Now, could you kindly remove your hand from my person? I have no desire to injure you, Momota-kun.”

Momota did draw his hand back, but only for a moment. In a twisted repeat of the first trial’s aftermath, he punched them. Korekiyo hissed softly in pain, a hand slowly moving to their face as they took a step backwards and glared at Momota with pure malice in their eyes.

“I see you have a death wish.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try to kill me,” Momota said with a scoff, on a roll now. “You’re just a sadistic little—”

“Stop, no fighting!” Gokuhara exclaimed, stepping between them.

“Kaito, just leave it for now,” Saihara added, sounding absolutely exhausted. “This isn’t going to accomplish anything.” It was a testament to how well he’d taken on the role of the group’s leader of sorts that his word was the final one. Gradually, everyone dispersed, heading towards the elevator.

“I hate you,” Himiko muttered under her breath when she brushed past Korekiyo. Hidden at the back of the elevator, their fingers wrapped around her wrist, and she suppressed a shiver.

“Do you?”

 

* * *

In the days following the trial, everyone seemed to come to the conclusion that simply avoiding Korekiyo altogether was the best course of action. Everyone except for Himiko, anyway. She did her best to push them out of her mind, but with her mind feeling like it was crumbling more and more by the hour, it was impossible. 

The door to their research lab was ajar. Holding her breath, trying to be as silent as possible, Himiko peered inside, able to spot them in a corner of the room, rearranging a display case full of ancient-looking figurines. Hand trembling, she pushed the door open more, stepping inside.

Despite her attempts to be sneaky about it, Korekiyo looked towards the entrance almost immediately. A nasty looking bruise peeked out from underneath their mask, stretching along their cheekbone.

“Ah, Himiko. I was wondering if you might come to see me.”

“Do you remember anything?” she asked, walking over to them. Himiko left the door open slightly, just in case. “Korekiyo...”

“I can only assume you’re referring to the mysterious visions you’ve alluded to before...They seem to involve me, if I remember correctly?”

“Yeah, from before we all wound up here.” Himiko nodded, leaning against the nearest display case. Korekiyo gave her a disapproving look, but didn’t tell her to move. They would have, she was sure, if anyone else did the same thing.

“I must admit that I’ve experienced something similar, yes. My memories are becoming muddled. Everything is far less clear than it used to be, but even so, these mysteries are truly remarkable. Could they be real, or are they mere illusions provided to us by the mastermind of this game? Aah, if they’re real...what a wonderful collection of observations. I’ve no firsthand experience with such relationships, and regrettably, research and observation can only go so far, but with you, Himiko...Yes, it could be the key to understanding everything.”

Mildly concerned by the fantasy Korekiyo had seemed to drift off into, Himiko meant to take a step back, but for some reason, she found herself moving closer instead.

“The things I remember don’t seem like you at all.” That was a lie, actually. From what little she had to go off of, Korekiyo’s general personality and interests seemed to be very much the same, just less fanatical and morbid. Could it be possible that all of it _was_ real, and simply took place before they’d started killing?

“I can assure you that all the scenes I’ve witnessed seemed very much believable to me,” they said. “And I cannot deny the inexplicable urge I feel to protect you, to watch over you...I do not believe my feelings of affection were unrequited. Are your morals really such that the regrettable circumstances of Chabashira-san’s death negate all of that?”

“You admitted to killing more people than just her during the trial. You said...”

“Hm, so you were more alert than you seemed. That’s one of the things I find so impressive about you, Himiko. People underestimate you, and you’re clearly capable of using that against them.”

Closer now, breath catching, Himiko lifted a hand. Her fingertips traced the visible portion of the bruise Momota left, and Korekiyo chuckled.

“Yes, Momota-kun was sure to leave me with more reminders of his opinion this morning. It’s admirable, truly, how steadfast he is in his morals, although I do not believe I’d be remiss in saying he’d been waiting for an opportunity to harm me since we first arrived at this school.” Himiko had no idea how anyone could say that so calmly. Then again, maybe not caring what other people think of you was a prerequisite for being a cold-blooded murderer.

“Wait, he tracked you down today just to punch you again?”

“Yes. I might have a broken rib, in fact, but it’s of no consequence. What happens to me hardly matters, and I’m confident I could kill him if I so chose, regardless of his superior physical strength.”

“It does matter!” She objected before she could stop herself, hand still cradling their face.

“I appreciate your concern for me, Himiko. However, I can’t help but notice you still haven’t answered my question. Are your previous feelings for me no longer relevant, solely due to the blood on my hands?”

“No. I don’t know. This is...You’re horrible.” 

_Korekiyo kissing her bruised knuckles in a darkened corner, as though she was the most delicate, precious thing in the world. Her own voice, telling them how she’d gladly kill Momota for them if only the game had already started. A tiny, hesitant smile from them that lit up the entire room._

_Later, looking down at her hand, faint smudges of red lipstick overlaid on purpling bruises. Lifting it to her own lips when she was alone, just to be where theirs had been._

Himiko leaned up on tiptoe, gently tugging their mask down and pressing a feather-light kiss to their lips. Just as slowly, she pulled away, the realization of what she’d just done sinking in.

“I have to go,” she muttered. Trying not to think about the dazed, almost blissful look in their eyes, she hurried out of the lab, face hot with shame and embarrassment.

 

* * *

She’d been foolish to think that could have been the end of it. 

That night, she found them lingering outside the dorms, catching hold of her wrist as she walked by, almost like a question. In spite of herself, Himiko nodded, even as she tugged her hand free.

Inside, up the stairs — all the way to her room, she thought of Tenko’s blood staining the floor, whether the Monokubs had even bothered to clean it up. And yet, the instant the door clicked shut, she was kissing Korekiyo again.

“Many societies believe in the concept of soulmates,” they murmured against her neck. “People fated to be together, too deeply connected to be apart. What are your thoughts on that?”

“My thoughts are we barely know each other.” Himiko steered them away from the door, farther into the room.

“And yet our memories say otherwise, do they not? For instance, you’ve never told me what your greatest fear is...understandably so, as revealing that information in a situation such as this would be incredibly foolish. And yet I’m quite certain the answer is being alone, without anyone you can trust or rely on. Am I wrong?”

“...No. You’re not.” She kissed them again. As soothing as their voice might be, Himiko didn’t want to think about this.

The blinding headaches that used to plague her whenever she was around them seemed to have stopped, at least. Whatever force, internal or external, was doing this to her, clearly wanted them to spend time with each other. Himiko wasn’t sure what to think of that.

“Stay,” she said later, feeling horribly, disgustingly weak. As if she needed someone to stay with her during the night to keep away the horrors of outside. Surprisingly, they agreed readily, all too happy to snuggle up next to her in bed. They hesitated a long while before removing their mask fully, however, looking away as they did.

“I don’t generally go without a mask around others, but...I feel comfortable around you,” they said by way of explanation. “I trust you.”

They seemed so much less menacing when they were asleep, holding onto her like they were afraid she might leave. Half-awake, looking over at them in the darkened room, Himiko trailed her fingertips down their side, almost alarmed by just how thin and bony they were. They curled closer in their sleep, burying their face in her neck, and she smiled.

 

* * *

Of course, the killing game continued, heedless of their own personal dramas. Truthfully, Himiko was surprised, pleasantly so, that Korekiyo didn’t wind up a victim. After all, if someone wanted to commit a murder, the most dangerous person in the group would be a natural choice, assuming they were brave enough to take them on.

Eventually, Himiko realized that at some point, she’d almost stopped caring about getting out. Fatigued by all the traumas, and preoccupied with figuring out what the hell was going on between her and Korekiyo, the environment just...became normal.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been lulled into complacency, finding out the truth wouldn’t have been quite so shocking.

In the trial grounds for the last time, Himiko watched as Shirogane’s words (the mastermind’s words, God, how had none of them realized before?) broke Korekiyo to pieces. She doubted the others noticed, always avoiding the sight of them, even when in a circle like this. In any case, it wasn’t like anyone besides herself would have any comforting words to spare for them. Himiko steadied herself against her podium, wishing that she could be by their side even as her own world was falling apart too.

_It’s all fiction_...There was nobody to whom those words were more cruel than Korekiyo. They’d told her about the reasons behind their crimes once, half asleep, and how conflicted they were. None of it was real. There had been no sister, no previous string of killings. As Shirogane told it, Tenko’s murder had been for absolutely nothing.

They were shaking like a leaf, winding their fingers in their hair as if that would somehow anchor them. Kiyo hadn’t been so obviously upset even during their own trial, protected by the knowledge that their kill had been free. 

“I swear I’ll kill you myself,” they muttered, staring daggers at Shirogane, and nobody spoke up to object.

In the end, they didn’t get the chance. As the survivors scrambled out of the rubble, taking in the devastation around them, Korekiyo grimaced at the boulder that had crushed the mastermind, as if angry it had taken their job.

Saihara and Harukawa had acted nice enough towards her, treating her almost as a friend, but the purposeful separation was more obvious now, a few feet too much to be natural standing between the two of them and herself, with Korekiyo’s arm wound protectively around her waist.

Himiko had still never had the chance to come to a conclusion on how she felt about them, whether the good things outweighed the bad. Now, of course, there was the matter of fictional personalities clouding everything, making the question even less simple. Right now though, she shivered, leaning into them as Saihara searched for what to say.

“Well, I guess this is it,” he finally settled on. Maki nodded, tugging anxiously at a pigtail. “Whatever’s out there, we have to move on and face it together.”

“Together,” Himiko echoed softly, looking at the friends surrounding her. After all that had happened, and the question of whether they were all really the crazed fans Shirogane had made them out to be, maybe being ‘good’ wasn’t a realistic ideal to aspire to at all. None of them could change the past. All they could do was move forward and do their best. “The four of us.”

 

* * *

It had been exactly eight days since the end. Most of them had been released from the hospital after only two, shooed off to their huge Danganronpa-provided apartment (free for as long as they wanted it, like that paid for their trauma). Korekiyo, however, had been kept longer. Himiko supposed the doctors wanted to make sure they really were stable and not still under the influence of a false backstory that might lead them to kill.

She’d been content to wait to see them until after they were released, not wanting to go back to the hospital. When she finally got around to unpacking her things from before the season started, however, a thick envelope with her name on it fell out from between a couple of sweaters. It smelled vaguely of incense, and the spidery handwriting conjured up memories of the Ultimate Anthropologist’s lab.

Sinking to the floor, Himiko opened it carefully, reading everything inside as one hand hovered nervously over the enclosed photos of a life she didn’t remember. She’d pieced together some of it already, from the painful, fragmented memories she’d gotten during the killing game (a faulty brainwashing job or a ‘gift’ from Shirogane — who could say?). More had come in the past week as well, filling in the gaps. But there was still a difference between making some guesses and knowing for sure. Completely aside from their ill-advised...whatever it was in recent weeks, Korekiyo was the most important person in her life.

She had to go see them.

 

* * *

She took a step backwards, staring down at the freshly-polished floor and the tiny images of herself reflected in it. Abruptly, Himiko jerked her head up to stare at the wall instead. That was safer. She didn’t have to see herself wilting away. She arranged herself precisely in the hallway, just out of view of the door. As long as they didn’t see her, she could still leave if she wanted to. She didn’t want to, but it felt good to have the option anyway. In the days apart, the nightmares and flashbacks that plagued her had started to overpower more pleasant memories.

Himiko bit her lip, tasting coppery blood in her mouth, like she’d just licked her keys. _Blood soaking into the floorboards, dripping between them. She’d stepped in it in the dark, Tenko’s blood. When she’d dropped to her knees, it soaked through her tights, too warm and far, far too much. They’d looked at her then, grinning behind the mask, and said they’d stay with her if she’d like, that they could go get some tea, it was alright._

She pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt (borrowed from Shuichi, of course, and far too big on her), letting the sleeves pool over her hands. A passing nurse gave her an odd look, and Himiko realized, with a thrill of glee, that she didn’t recognize her. 

“Hey, no fans allowed here, this is a hospital. People are recovering.” 

Himiko nodded, taking a step closer and letting the hood fall again, fingers shaking.

“I’m not a fan,” she said quietly, slipping her hand in her pocket and fishing out her ID, just in case. “I’m here to see Korekiyo.”

“Oh! Oh, Yumeno-san, my apologies. I didn’t recognize you at first. My apologies, you can go right ahead. Ah, but, before you do...” The nurse paused, fishing her phone out of her pocket. “Would you mind taking a picture with me? My daughter’s a huge fan, you see, you were her favorite.” She seemed entirely oblivious to her own hypocrisy.

Himiko just curled her lip in disgust. She shook her head and opened the door to Korekiyo’s room, stepping inside.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only noise was the humming of monitors as they stared at each other. Then, Himiko took the envelope out of her hoodie pocket, holding it up for them to see their own handwriting on it. There was only one thing she could say.

“I missed you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> wow, okay. this fic has been 6 months in the making, with lots of times i thought it might never be finished at all. it's been so long that there's plenty of things i'd change if i was starting it now, and it actually took me about 3/4th of the entire thing to decide on which of four different endings i wanted to go with. i wish i could've done my original idea more justice, but it also feels great to have gotten it out at all.
> 
> this ship, and korekiyo individually, are very special to me, and so writing this has helped me quite a bit over the past several months. if it brings the same kind of comfort and enjoyment that i felt to even one other person, that's enough for me. that said, it'd be incredibly appreciated if you could take a moment to comment and share your thoughts with me. i always adore talking about these two :)
> 
> i guess i've written the longest himikiyo fic in existence now, so that's pretty cool too


End file.
